The Prophet and the Walk of Shame

Summer 1991.

The season was especially hot that year.  I was in the middle of taking two summer sessions in college (I was the typical overachiever) and decided I needed a break for the weekend.  So I called a close friend who attended the University of Georgia, to see if I could come visit for a couple of days.  She was thrilled to have me so I ventured up to Athens, GA, for a fun-filled escape.

I was in the absolute best shape of my young life.  Most of it was due to my exercise regimen of belly dance classes along with swimming a couple of hours every day, which had the added benefit of giving me a lovely summer tan. That was the year that I became quite the fashionista.  I packed for whatever may come my way and got on the road early Saturday.

Athens had an eclectic vibe.  The town itself was devoted to college life and there were restaurants and bars on every corner.  My friend Kim was an art major and hung out with a diverse group of people….most of whom she lived with.  Her place was a large old house where they all lived, shared expenses, food and each other’s beds at times.  It had the feel of a 1970’s commune and I LOVED it.  We partied and shopped for most of the day.  I found a lovely pair of thigh-high boots to go with my club attire.  Athens was the kind of place where you could dress like Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman and get by with it.

That night we decided to try out a new dance club in town.  While waiting in line (fake ID in hand) I made eye contact with one of the bouncers.  He was huge, handsome and brooding.  He was about 6’4 with light brown hair and blue eyes.  His physique was chiseled.  I took notice…but kept my cool and made my way in without issue.  I spent the entire night on the dance floor.  The music was great and my friends and I were having a good time.  I could feel the bouncer watching me and I found myself fantasizing about him while I danced.

I excused myself to the bathroom and as I was about to open the door, I felt him behind me.  He pushed it closed before I could open it.

“Where do you think you are going, Miss?” he asked.

Just the feel of him close to me gave me chills.  “To the restroom” I answered.

He smiled and tilted my chin up towards his tall physique, “Do you have permission to do that?”

Permission?  Really?  But I must say, I liked his tone.

“No I didn’t get permission.  How do I get that?” I asked.

“I was enjoying watching you dance and then you left me wanting more.  Go ahead and take your break.  Just know someone is watching you.”

And like that…he disappeared back into the crowd.  I was  so turned on by his presence.  His tone.  His audacity.  I wanted more of him.

The night went on and my friends went back to Kim’s house.  I told them to go ahead without me, that I could walk or take a cab back if I needed to.

Let’s be honest…I knew where I was going…I had to have him.

Once my friends were gone, he made his way over to me.  “Where are your friends?”

“They wanted to go back home.  I wasn’t finished dancing.” I said confidently.

“Oh…that’s too bad.  How are you getting home?”

“I am not planning to go home.” I answered.

“I plan to leave with you.”

The club closed around 2:00 and I waited outside for him to finish up.  The town was still abuzz from the nocturnal hedonists lurking about, in search of their next quest..

He motioned for me to follow him and we got into a jeep with a couple of his co-workers.  They all worked at the club and had rode together that evening.  He and I were situated in the back.  Before we ventured to his place, they needed to drop off one person and pick up another.  I realized at this point that I didn’t know his name.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Elijah” he answered.  “My grandparents named me.  My grandfather was a Pentecostal pastor.”

How sexy…Elijah.  It rolled off the tongue and I could imagine myself screaming it out in passion.  And then I remembered that Elijah was a prophet in the Old Testament.  Hmmm…..wonder what enlightenment this prophet will give me tonight.

Soon we were alone.  Just his friend who was driving and us in the backseat. He began kissing me as reached up my dress and fingered my wetness.  He was a bit rough, but I loved it.  He bit my lip as he kissed me and I found myself aroused by that slight tinge of pain.

We arrived at his apartment around 3:00.  His place was a bit Spartan, but immaculately neat.  I could tell he was wound tight. Everything was in its proper place.  Everything had its place.

Including me.

And my place was stripped down…bent over his bed…legs spread wide, waiting for him to fuck me.  I recall he stood there and looked at me for a few minutes.  He surveyed my body like it was his prey.  I felt him standing close behind me…I felt his toned body pressed up against me.  He spread my lips with the head of his large cock and teased the opening of my hole…My God I wanted him.  I wanted all of him inside me.

He held me by the hips as he drove himself deeply inside me.  It was a slow, hard fuck.  He reached up and grabbed an handful of my hair and pulled my head back as he pushed harder.  I was so aroused by how he fucked me.  He was the MAN and he was going to have his way.  We fucked all night.  Every position.  There were no boundaries.  We were like wild animals let out of their cages.

We moved to his roommate’s room (they were away for summer) and he had me stand on the ladder of their bunk beds.  With one leg on his chest and one on the ladder he held me in place as ravaged my pussy.  We both came and in the midst of the bliss, I almost fell off of the ladder.

We finally went to sleep around 7:00.

The next morning I tried to find my clothes, but they were scattered all over the apartment.  He was one step ahead and laid out a pair of his favorite boxers and a t-shirt for me to wear.  Thank God!  We had breakfast and fucked again.  This time on the kitchen table.


I realized I needed to get to Kim’s house soon, so she wouldn’t worry.  But Elijah…a super-fit athlete, didn’t own a car.  He walked and biked everywhere.  No worries…I thought to myself, it’s a college town, surely there’s a bus system.  Luck would have it…his apartment was not on the bus line, so that wasn’t an option.  No cabs ran before noon on Sunday (because all the good people of the town should be getting up to go to church…not contemplating their exit from a one-night-stand)

My only option…to walk to Kim’s.

On a Sunday morning.

My only wardrobe choices….my dress from the night before ( a SHORT, tight, black club dress, not suitable for walking long distances) or his boxers and t-shirt.  And the only shoes….my new thigh-high black boots.

Imagine my embarrassment…not only having to take the walk of shame…but having to take the walk of shame in boxers and thigh-high boots.  So I made the best of it…singing songs from Pretty Woman as I made my way back to Pulaski Street.  But about halfway there, I became fatigued…after all, it was the middle of summer and I was out in the heat, in boxers and boots.  On little to no sleep.

Lucky for me, a car of Rastafarian men pulled up to my rescue (you cannot make this shit up).  They were driving a pimped out LTD, and there was a trail of smoke coming from the backseat.  “Hello dere…are you a damsel in distress?” I leaned in, “Yes, I am.”

“Get in young lady.  We take you home.”  The man driving was about 40 years old with long dreads and a large scar on his arm.  “It’s too hot for a nice girl to be walking about.  Where do we go from here to get you home?”

I showed him the way back to Kim’s house.  Her friends were on the porch when I arrived. I think my chariot and escort gave me some street-cred points.  But they still gave me hell….

“Girl….talk about a walk of shame!  You really outdid yourself didn’t you?”

And, I really did.  I can’t go to Athens without driving past Pulaski Street, reliving that crazy weekend when I was enlightened by the prophet

Thank Jah, I made it back safe and sound.



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